


Love is Like a Poke to the Surgical Wound

by the_wanlorn



Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 17:57:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_wanlorn/pseuds/the_wanlorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>The only other person to see him on that first lap was Rush, sitting against a wall doing God knew what, ignoring the rest of the world. Young didn't bother acknowledging him as he went by.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love is Like a Poke to the Surgical Wound

**Author's Note:**

> I am 98% sure this is a post-ep for 1x12. It's been a long time since I wrote it, though, so who knows!

Young liked to go running at night, when it was cool and the streets around wherever he was living at the time were almost empty. That didn't change, hurtling through space in uncontrolled FTL; night was just a more fluid concept. Instead of being after the sun went down, it was when almost everyone on board Destiny had gone to sleep. Sometimes, they went for days without a night, everyone running on cat naps and adrenaline.

He ran the same route every time, hitting all the key areas of the ship and swinging around the furthest used quarters, using Rush's as the perimeter mark. If it took two laps or twenty laps to work off the adrenaline from whatever emergency they had that day -- to get his mind to quit and stop trying to plan ahead for the next emergency -- so be it.

By the time he hit the infirmary, nodding to TJ as he ran past, he knew he'd be going in circles for a while. The only other person to see him on that first lap was Rush, sitting against a wall doing God knew what, ignoring the rest of the world. Young didn't bother acknowledging him as he went by.

On the second lap, Rush was sitting a little farther down the corridor, his legs jutting out in Young's way. He almost stopped to find out what Rush was doing -- odds were it wasn't something _good_ \-- but decided that he didn't want to know and just said, "Stop blocking the corridor," as he went past.

On the third lap, Rush hadn't moved. Young slowed for a moment, decided he still didn't want to know, and went on. He got as far as the next bend before he stopped and stood for a moment, then sighed and turned back.

Rush was still sitting against the wall, his eyes closed and legs still in the way of anyone who wanted to run on that side of the corridor.

"You can't sleep here," Young said, loud enough to wake him up but hopefully not loud enough to draw the attention of anyone who might still be up and nearby. That was all the rest of the people on board needed, to see him and Rush fighting again.

"I'm not sleeping, I'm thinking," Rush said. "I'm not surprised you can't tell the difference."

Young's retort died in his throat when Rush opened his eyes. They were rimmed with red, and, combined with the way he seemed hunched in around himself even leaning against the wall, gave him a haggard appearance.

"You're useless here if you pass out," Young said. "Go get another venom shot."

Rush didn't move an inch, just looked up at him with something close to hatred in his eyes. "I'm sure you're the best judge of who's useless here, Colonel." He waved the pad that Young hadn't even noticed on the floor by his side. " May I go back to figuring out how to put more power in the shields without compromising the rest of the ship, or do you have more irrelevant conversation you want to make?"

"You can't feel this then?"

Young bent down and pushed a finger into Rush's chest, wanting to make his point but not meaning to actually _hurt_ him. But Rush hissed and curled forward, his face pinched when he glared up at Young. "You want to rummage around in there a little while you're at it? Save some time with your next murder attempt? No one would think twice if it looked like I tore the stitches and bled out, would they."

Young clenched his jaw and did not think about Rush's body lying, covered in dust, only a few yards from the gate. Or the knot in his gut when the gate closed and the ship jumped to FTL, and he really couldn't take it back. "You're useless to us dead. I'm trying to get you to the infirmary so you don't collapse in the middle of taking apart the ship's life support to power the shields."

"I'll stay here, if it's all the same to you." Rush straightened up a little, but between the deep lines of pain on his face and the way he grimaced when he breathed too deep, any positive affect he was going for was lost.

"You can either go under your own power, or I can force you there." He didn't want to admit it, because admitting any emotion toward Rush that wasn't based in dislike was treading on dangerous territory, but he was worryingly pale and drawn.

"Resorting to threats now?" Rush tried to laugh, but ended up exhaling harshly and curling forward again, proving Young's mental point. "Go ahead, then. Walking back across half the ship will be good for the internal bleeding."

As much as he hated to admit it, Rush had a point. TJ and the infirmary were far away for someone who couldn't even make it down the last fifty feet of corridor to his quarters.

"Come on." Surprisingly, Rush didn't -- or couldn't -- resist when Young reached down to carefully pull him to his feet. He just let Young do most the work and blinked when they turned away from the main part of the ship.

He leaned heavily on Young and didn't say anything for the entire walk to his quarters. Young wasn't sure which was more of a cause for concern -- that Rush was actually willingly letting Young help him, or that he wasn't complaining about it.

Rush's quarters were unsurprisingly empty of anything that might suggest someone lived in them. Young dumped him on the bed, expecting that he would stay sitting at the edge, glaring until Young left. Instead, he slowly tipped over and swung his legs up with a breath that sounded suspiciously close to a sigh of relief.

Young radioed TJ, turning away from Rush like the radio was quiet enough that it would give him privacy. "I need some of the venom down in Rush's quarters."

There was a pause, long enough to make him worry that she had gone to bed, but then she said, "You need it, or Rush?"

"Rush," he clarified.

There was another pause, and then, "I'll bring extra, just in case."

Rush snorted behind him, but didn't say anything. That was fine with Young. He'd stay just long enough to make sure Rush didn't try to leave before TJ got there. He expected Rush to say something, at the very least tell him to get out. He was prepared for anything but the silence that he got.

Once again, Rush looked like he was sleeping, and only slightly more comfortable than out in the corridor. Young would have believed it, too, except when he sighed and crossed his arms, Rush twitched. He considered that for a moment, then stepped back, dragging one foot along the ground, and Rush twitched again.

When Young was a kid, he'd had a stray dog that did that. If it weren't for the fact that he almost had to carry Rush to the bed, he was sure that if he moved too close Rush would spring up and bolt.

When TJ came in, Rush didn't say anything, just pushed himself up with a grimace and pulled his shirt over his head. Young turned his head away when he realized he was staring, but not before he had Rush's bare chest seared into his memory.

"Okay?" TJ finally asked Rush, which Young took as a signal that Rush had a shirt back on and wasn't being disturbingly distracting anymore. He was wrong. The only thing worse than his body deciding Rush was more than easy on the eyes would be Rush realizing that, so he carefully kept his eyes focused above the neck.

Rush nodded something that may have been meant as a thank you to TJ, who stepped back and said, "Come by for another tomorrow morning."

He nodded, which she seemed to accept. Young knew better, though. He could see Rush's eyes, and he had no plans to stop whatever very important work he was doing to sleep, never mind to go get something to dull the pain. As almost an afterthought, Young decided to stay -- at least outside the door -- until he was certain Rush was going to sleep. Eli was good for a kid, but he was no Rush. If Rush passed out from exhaustion and something failed on the ship, they would be in real trouble.

The venom was fast-acting. By the time TJ left, Rush had collapsed back down, some of the lines on his face smoothing out, and breathing easier. His eyes were closed and Young thought that he might actually be asleep already. He stepped forward heavily, and Rush didn't move, just kept breathing slow and steady.

That had been easier than Young expected. He watched Rush's chest rise and fall, but was suddenly uncomfortably aware that if Rush were awake, he wouldn't be doing this. He almost turned to leave. But it was cool in the room, and no one liked sleeping in their shoes.

He moved to the bed, watching Rush closely, ready to turn and leave at the slightest sign that he was waking up, or not really asleep. He eased Rush's shoes off and pulled the thin blanket crumpled at the foot of the bed over him.

Rush still hadn't stirred, so he allowed himself to rest his hand on Rush's head for a moment, giving his hair a little tousle, before turning away and heading to his own quarters to sleep.

###

When the door closed behind Young, Rush opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling for a long while, mind buzzing too much to sleep. He had only meant to discourage Young from staying by ignoring him until he got bored and left, not make him do... whatever that was. What the fuck just happened?

###

"Colonel Young? If I could have a word?"

Young looked up from a plate of completely unappetizing yellow fruit and what was maybe supposed to be some sort of oatmeal to see Rush standing in the door of the mess, arms crossed, staring at him impatiently.

He pushed his plate away and stood. Rush started moving as soon as he was up, but Young refused to run to catch up to him. If it was really important, Rush would wait. Or at least yell more.

"What's wrong with the ship now?" Young asked when he turned a corner into a dead end corridor and Rush was right there.

"The ship?" Rush looked honestly confused for a moment, before shaking his head a little and saying, "There's nothing wrong with the ship."

It was too early to have the patience to wait for Rush to explain what he wanted on his own, so when he just stopped and stared at a point above Young's shoulder, his brow furrowed, Young said, "What do you want, Rush?"

Rush refocused on him and said, in a tone somewhere between confused and angry, "What the fuck did you think you were doing?"

It was also too early for him to have done anything that would have pissed off Rush. "What is it you think that I did?"

Rush stared at him, then made a strangled noise, his face going through a mess of contortions, and half-said words escaping from his mouth. Young committed the image of Rush, speechless, to memory to pull out on long nights where all he wanted was to strangle him.

"I didn't get any of that. Are you being Scottish at me?" he asked when Rush paused to actually think about what he wanted to say.

Rush's eyes had drifted to above his shoulder again. "I wasn't _asleep_ last night, Colonel. I was just waiting for you to leave so I could get back to work."

_Shit._ "I hope," Young started, almost unconsciously straightening a minuscule amount, "you're not arrogant enough to suggest that I care about your well-being on anything more than a purely functional level. I'm not your damn boyfriend."

He hoped that he had put enough disgust in that to make it seem like there wasn't anything on Earth -- or Destiny -- that he wanted less. Rush's eyes flicked back to him for a moment, too furious for a reaction to what Young had said, unless...

"Like I would even _deign_ to fuck you," Rush spat. "What, exactly is so wrong with m-" he started and then clamped his mouth shut, and Young relaxed.

"I don't see where you would even get that idea," Young said, the hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Rush gaped at him, then said, "You- you took off my shoes!"

"No one likes sleeping with their shoes on," Young pointed out, crossing his arms.

"And got me a blanket," Rush said, like it was some terrible crime to make sure someone didn't freeze while they slept.

Young shrugged. "This ship is cold at night."

"You _touched_ my _hair_ ," Rush said, caught somewhere between confusion and wonder.

"I didn't know it was that precious to you," Young said, holding up his hands and barely able to keep the smile off his face. "I promise, hands off, from now on."

Rush grew still and finally met Young's eyes, looking lost. Catching that look on Rush's face was rare enough that Young savored the moment, until Rush said, simply, "Why?"

"There might," Young allowed, stepping closer to Rush, "have been a few half truths in this conversation."

Rush's eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer too. "I don't understand you," he admitted. "Every time I'm sure I do-"

"I know," Young said, waiting for Rush to decide what to do. "It's one of the few pleasures I have in life."

"You. Are an asshole."

"That, too," he allowed. Rush was close enough that Young could see it every time his face twitched like he was trying to smile but had forgotten how, or wasn't sure that he should.

Young was as patient as he could be, but it had been months since he'd gotten laid, and that hadn't exactly ended well. So when it seemed like Rush was going to hover on the very edge of making a decision forever, Young slid a hand around the back of his neck to pull him just close enough to press his lips against Rush's.

There was a second where Rush froze before he grabbed Young's biceps just a bit too tightly and began actually participating. Rush kissed like it hadn't been just _months_ since he'd gotten laid, and Young wasn't sure whether the desperation was hot, or sad, or both. Regardless, the heat pooling in his abdomen was making him think it would be a good idea to move somewhere more private.

He pulled away just long enough to see if he could figure out where they were, and Rush made a soft noise in the back of his throat before letting go to point and say, "Your quarters are around the corner."

Somehow, he wasn't surprised. "You planned this."

"I plan everything," Rush said, managing to look smug and impatient at the same time. "Well? I don't want one of your men to walk by and decide I'm taking advantage. I've had enough blunt-force trauma in the past twenty-four hours, thank you."

Young snorted and walked back out into the main corridor. "Like anyone would think I couldn't take you."

"I think I've changed my mind," Rush said, but he was following Young too closely -- almost on top of him -- to be believable. "I have very important things to be doing, and you are not one of them."

Young grinned. He had made bad decisions in his life, and he was pretty sure this was one of them. It might even be the worst of them. But it was going to be worth it.

THE END


End file.
